Shepard of Death
by Vaunt
Summary: Jane Shepard is no stranger to death. After all, she's died several times before. Crossover with Mage the Ascension
1. Chapter 1 - The End ME2-0

The Normandy was dying. Explosions echoed in the background as emergency klaxons blazed. There was fire everywhere. Kaidan ran through the inferno, looking for Shepard. There.

"I've launched the distress beacon. Do you think the alliance will get here in time?"

Putting her helmet on, Shepard turned and paused. She lowered her helmet, and stared into space for a moment. Her eyes were gray.

"They'll get here in time, but not for me. Today... today I die."

Kaidan gasped.

"What? Shepard!"

Shepard glared at Kaidan sharply.

"Kaidan. Get everyone to the escape pods. Organize the evacuation. Don't mourn me. We'll see each other again, over..."

Her eyes glazed as she stared into the distance.

"...over the Horizon? On Horizon? But Horizon was destroyed..." she murmured. "Horizon..."

An explosion shook the hull, and they both stumbled. Kaidan grabbed Shepard, and she shivered. Her eyes refocused on him. She pulled his head close to hers, staring intently at him.

"It will be a few years, but I'm trusting you to take care of everyone, understand?"

Kaidan swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

"Joker's still in the cockpit. I... I don't want to leave you here."

Shepard smirked.

"Today, we stem the tide of destiny. I will find a way to cheat fate. Now go! That's an order."

Shepard turned, and dashed towards the CIC, pulling her helmet on as she ran. She didn't look back.

She could hear Joker cajoling and begging the Normandy to stay together, but she could feel the ship dying beneath her. Power was dimming, and the thrusters were gasping their last. The Normandy's crew was dead, or gone, and the Normandy was following.

She ran up the stairs, and the door to the CIC opened, showing shattered remains floating adrift. The top of the hull had been ripped off, and everything had been thrown into space. She could see plates of the Normandy's hull, floating away towards the planet that loomed above her. As she made her way towards the cockpit, it was almost peaceful. The only thing she could hear now was the sound of her own breathing, and only faint vibrations from the deck let her know the Normandy was still breaking apart. Her steps slowed and stopped.

Standing in the open, she knew. Looking up, she saw the planet above; a luminous pale blue, the color of death. It consumed the entire sky. She knew death. Around her drifted the dead, and the twisted remains of peerless machinery. The finest ship ever built. Inside herself, she could hear the baying and howling of dogs. She knew that when she opened the door to the cockpit, she would die.

She resumed her march across the CIC, and in the drifting wreckage she saw Pressly's corpse, caught in one of the consoles. She stopped, and gently closed his eyes. Then striding through the weak mass effect field that kept the air from venting, she walked into the cockpit, and to her death.

Joker was struggling with the controls as Shepard strode in.

"Joker! We have to get you out now."

"No, I won't abandon the Normandy, I can still save her."

Shepard stared at Joker.

"The Normandy is gone. Don't throw your life away as well."

Joker stilled, then started to nod.

"Yeah. OK."

Shepard grabbed Joker's arm and started levering him out of the pilot seat. Joker looked back at the flashing HUD, and blanched.

"They're coming around for another attack!"

Shepard gripped Joker's arm with both hands, and even though she felt the bones crack under her grip, she whirled him around, and threw him at the escape pod. She pointed at him with her right hand, as she pounded the ejection button with her left.

"This is not your fault, Joker!"

Then he was gone, and she was finally alone.

She turned, and saw the silhouette of the enemy bear down on her. Its weapons flared to life again, and stuck the Normandy. She stood patiently. She closed her eyes, and spoke.

"reincarnation-  
already have a death poem  
from the last time"

The Normandy shattered in two, and Shepard was flung into space. She asphyxiated before she reached the planet, burned to death entering the atmosphere, and died again on impact.


	2. Chapter 2 - Virmire

_Author's note: Yesterday while walking to work, I had a small thought about Mass Effect. Coupled with the hopes I have for the 20th anniversary of Mage, I was inspired to bang out a few words, and posted them. Here we are, one day later, and somehow this little idea of mine received follows, alerts, and even a review! Oh my. Well, in thanks to you all, I have banged out a few more words. Enjoy._

Mass Effect 1, Virmire

The Normandy's hold was deathly quiet.

Shepard sat, lips pressed tightly, hands clenched on her thighs. Her body quivered with suppressed fury. Wrex and Garrus glanced at each other, but didn't say anything. Tali was helping Liara patch up Ashley.

Kaidan's voice came over the com, gunfire in the background. "It's been an honor serving with you, Shepard."

Ashley cleared her throat. "Three minutes to nuclear detonation." She looked miserable; physically she was wounded and exhausted, but guilt rolled off her in waves. "Kaidan, we'll never forget you."

The Normandy rumbled beneath them as they climbed into space, escaping destruction. Tali and Liara finished their first aid. Everyone looked out the window at the planet, and the team member they were leaving behind.

Shepard suddenly stood. "Today, we stem the tide of destiny, even if it calls down our doom." she murmured as she strode to the middle of the landing bay. She pulled off her gloves, and tossed them to the side. "Everyone, hold tight and let me focus. This is important. Don't interrupt me." She glared at her team, until they nodded and agreed.

She pulled out her combat knife.

Shepard looked over to Ashley. "Ash, you're a Christian, correct?"

Ashley flinched and glanced around at the rest of the crew, then straightened. "Yes chief, I am. Is there a problem?"

Shepard stared intently at her. "You really believe? You have faith?"

Ashley nodded.

Shepard stared at her for a few more moments, and then nodded. "Isaiah, chapter 57. First two verses. Please."

Ashley blinked. Then she pulled up the verses on her onmitool. "The righteous perish, and no one ponders it in his heart; devout men are taken away…"

Shepard drove her knife into the palm of her hand, and ripped it down. Blood sprayed across the deck. Flesh dangled where the knife tore it away, and the bones of her knuckles were visible. Ignoring the exclamations from the rest of the crew, she started walking in a circle. She motioned at Ashley to continue with the blood covered knife.

Ashley took a deep breath, "… and no one understands that the righteous are taken away to be spared from evil. Those who walk uprightly enter into peace; they find rest as they lie in death."

Shepard knelt in the middle of the bloody circle, tucking her legs beneath her. She placed the knife precisely by her side, put her right hand on her thigh, and put her bleeding left hand on the ground in front of her. She closed her eyes.

"1 Corinthians now. Chapter 15. Start at verse 42." There was a strange smell in the air, electric and alive. Shepard's words echoed strangely.

Ashley nodded, and continued, "It is the same way with the resurrection of the dead. Our earthly bodies are planted in the ground when we die, but they will be raised to live forever. Our bodies are buried in brokenness, but they will be raised in glory. They are buried in weakness, but they will be raised in strength..."

Shepard closed her eyes. "More. Skip to verse 51, and go to 55. Don't stop talking. Everyone else, shut up."

There was a building vibration now; as Ashley spoke, each word seemed to pile on top of the one before. It drowned out all other noise. Even the Normandy's engines were made quiet.

"But let me reveal to you a wonderful secret. We will not all die, but we will all be transformed!"

In front of Shepard, the pool of blood from her hand formed into a perfect circle.

"It will happen in a moment, in the blink of an eye, when the last trumpet is blown."

Shepard reached up with her good hand, and drew a shape in blood on her brow.

"For when the trumpet sounds, those who have died will be raised to live forever. And we who are living will also be transformed."

The blood started to change color, until Shepard's hand was pressed against a black void, drinking in the words being pulled from Ashley. The mark on her forehead had also become black. It was in the shape of an eye.

"For our dying bodies must be transformed into bodies that will never die; our mortal bodies must be transformed into immortal bodies."

Shepard opened her eyes, and they were also black; a solid pitch.

"Then, when our dying bodies have been transformed into bodies that will never die, this Scripture will be fulfilled:"

Shepard flexed her bloody hand, and raised it into the air. She reached up with her right hand, and clenched her left elbow.

"Death is swallowed up in victory."

Blood pouring from her eyes and ears, Shepard thrust her hand, her arm, down into the black circle, and _through_, into the deck beneath.

"O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?"

Shepard heaved her body up with a scream, throwing herself out of the circle, and as she pulled her bleeding hand back, Kaidan was clutched in her broken grip.

Behind them, a nuclear sunrise dawned on the planet's surface.


	3. Chapter 3 - Death ME2-1

_A/N: I had to do some tremendous worldsmithing before I could move any further in the story; this is going to get complicated, and I don't want to have to contradict myself too much._

Shepard was back in hell. Mindoir, to be precise.

This time was different though; it really was Sheol; the dusty plane of endings, unlike the first time she appeared here, half mad with paradox, hemorrhaging essence and disoriented from her stumble through time. She was also an adult now, instead of the child she was then. Plus, knowing she was dead really cinched it.

She walked through the rubbled houses and corpses towards where the batarian camp lay.

A turian stood before her, his face covered in complex patterns, blood over tattoos.

"Nihlus." Shepard greeted the dead Spectre.

"Shepard." Nihlus Kryik nodded at her. His face was a ruin; in life Saren had shot him in the back of the head, and the upper right half of Nihlus's face was gone.

They stood there a moment. Nihlus was studying Shepard, and Shepard waited for him to finish.

"I watched you stop Saren. I am proud of you, Shepard." Nihlus's ruined face grinned, mandibles flaring. "You are a true Spectre, and defeated the best of us. I'm glad I could teach you; you are not only my student, but my peer and I hope I have discharged my duty to you now." He nodded to the center of the batarian defense, where slavers were strewn about, each shot in the head. The remnants of the Prothian Beacon from Eden Prime lay besides their corpses. "It's safe; I have kept it from falling to the hands of your foes."

Shepard quirked an eye at Nihlus. "Why didn't you place it with the Alliance?"

Nihlus's remaining eye was steady as he stared at Shepard. "We both know why you don't trust them. Besides, I had help." He gestures at a lone batarian slaver creeping around the edge of the camp. Two slim arms emerge from underneath the rubble behind the batarian, and a knife flashes. The slaver goes down with a gurgle, and his twitching corpse is slowly pulled into the shadows. A few moments later, a child slides out, and creeps over to Shepard and Nihlus. She is thin. Her hair is lanky, and covered with batarian blood. Large green eyes peer at the two Spectres. She hides several bloody knives behind her back.

Shepard kneels and hugs the girl. Shepard looks up at Nihlus. "Did you two get introduced to each other?"

Nihlus shakes his head. "She is very effective at running and hiding, and I never wanted to get close enough to grab her to keep her still long enough to talk to her." He points at the kitchen knives the child carries. "Those things are sharper than they have a right to be."

"Why yes, they are." Shepard pulls the exact same knife the girl has from behind her back. She examines the basic looking knife. The girl lifts her knife up so Shepard can compare the two. "I keep them very sharp." Shepard and the girl both smile. Their grins are the same. They both put their knives away, somewhere behind them, and Shepard pulls the girl in close. "Thank you." she whispers to her younger self. As they hug, they meld together, leaving only Shepard behind.

She stands, and extends her hand to Nihlus. "Hi. I'm Janice. Jan for short. People call me the Shepard of Death, and the name stuck." Nihlus looks at her, then reaches out and shakes her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Jan. I wonder how the Alliance got your name wrong." Nihlus cocks his head to the side, and stares behind Shepard. "Janice. There's someone behind you. I never knew humans could have wings. Or be on fire and still live. Is that some kind of metal? Her tears, I mean."

Shepard's smile grows wider. Behind her, her avatar strides out of her shadow, wings of fire raised to the sky. "She's here to help me fulfill my half of our bargain." A blood covered hand reaches out and rests on Shepard's shoulder. The smell of burning lead fills the air. Wings made of fire encircle Shepard. Shepard turns, and takes her avatar's other hand in both of hers. Blood drips down the angel's arms, continuous, appearing from no wounds. Shepard lifts the angel's fingers to her own face and starts to draw patterns in blood, matching Nihlus's markings. She turns, and faces Nihlus. Her avatar stands directly behind her, red hands on both of Shepard's shoulders. Wings rise behind them, and fire leaps into the sky.

Shepard places her hands on Nihlus's shoulders, and leans her face in, against his. "From protégé to mentor. The chain unbroken. Guide the protégé to the mentor. Follow wisdom, and the offering of knowledge. Know the past. Guide the present. Show the future." She turns Nihlus around, and keeps her hands on his shoulders. "Reveal the mentor!" Fire blazes from her avatar, up, around, though, into Shepard. "Show the teacher!" Though her, Nihlus. "The path appears. Open the way!" Fire spreads out in front of him, forming a window in the air, forged of light, heat, and will. In the window, they could see a figure. It was pressed in darkness, stretched on a rack of its own sins.

The waves of fire increased. "Reach in, and pull him out." Shepard yelled at Nihlus. Nihlus pushed his clawed hands through the window of fire. Ice instantly formed on Nihlus's arms as his hands entered the darkness. Nihlus's talons clenched on the figure, and slowly Nihlus, Shepard, and the angel of fire stepped back. Another step, and Saren Arterius fell to the ground in front of them. The fires flickered and dimmed slowly.

Shepard and Nihlus knelt beside Saren. He was twitching slightly, boneless. The only thing giving him shape was his skin. His left arm and shoulder was gone, and looking inside the hole, most of his insides were also missing. His empty eyes gazed blindly. "Who…who's there?" His voice was quiet and wavering. His mandibles barely moved.

Shepard took his hand, and gently placed it around her neck. She squeezed his hand like she was trying to break his grip. "Shz…Shepard?" he whispered.

A sad smile. "How many other people do you dangle off cliffs?"

Nihlus took his other hand. "I'm also here, Saren."

"Why…what did you do to save me?"

Shepard shrugged. "Nihlus bargained with me, and I made an oath to try to save you." Her hands moved over Saren's body, poking and pulling at the spaces where his cybernetic implants were when he was alive. "I found your soul in the outer dark where it was consigned, and we pulled you into hell."

"...Hell?"

"Well yeah, we're all dead, after all."

"..Then you failed, Shepard? The reapers have consumed everything?" His entire body deflates, horrified. "It was all for nothing, then?"

Shepard and Nihlus lift Saren up, draping his arms over their shoulders. Carefully they start walking towards the Beacon. "Don't worry, Saren. We destroyed Sovereign. They couldn't activate the Citadel." Shepard laughs. "And I haven't failed yet either; just because I'm dead doesn't mean I am going to stay dead. After all, I've died before."

Nihlus was nodding along as Shepard spoke, but stopped in surprise. "You died before, Shepard?"

Shepard shrugged. "I don't mean to make light of it; dying is serious, important. But if you know what you're doing, death is not the end. I first died when I was 7; a man held me underwater until I drowned." She smiled. "I met my big sisters then, and they showed me how to come back. Besides, even if it's the end of your life, you still go forward into your next one."

They reached the Beacon. The top was gone, and only the bottom half remained. It was quiescent, a jagged stump of black. Shepard and Nihlus gently lay Saren against the Beacon.

"I can't go forward, Shepard." Saren said. "I can already feel my sins start to press down again. I offered myself to Sovereign, and even in death, I can't escape his grasp. He owns me, now."

Shepard knelt, and started to trace markings on Saren's bare face. "Saren. Trust me. I have changed fate before. You don't have to end up in the darkness. Besides, I stole you from Sovereign in the end, and I can release you."

"Even if you let me go, it doesn't stop him from finding me again. My reprieve is only temporary."

Shepard frowned. "Saren. Right now you can only see the inevitable. But it doesn't have to be that way. Nihlus will guide you. And even though you are correct that you, as Saren, cannot be redeemed, that doesn't mean that it will always be this way. Life is a wheel, going from birth to death, then back around again. You can make it up on the next turn." She smiles. "I did." She stood, and stepped back. "We didn't go to these lengths to set you up for failure. I tried to save you when you were alive, and it worked – in the end, you stopped Sovereign from winning as much as I. I admire you, Saren. You were the best of us. I respect you. You are the mentor of my mentor, and my wisdom comes from you. I won't let your sacrifice be in vain. You will be redeemed, and through you, Nihlus. And thusly, me; the chain of learning is unbroken and goes both ways. As above, so below." She gestured to Nihlus to stand next to Saren. "All you need to do is believe in yourself, and in us."

"What's the plan, Shepard?" Nihlus asked. He stepped next to Saren, and examined the Beacon. "What can the Beacon do to help us? Isn't it broken?"

Shepard pointed at the Prothean Beacon. "This is a symbol, a message for the living after its makers have died. It resonates with death and life. The fact that it's now destroyed is even better; as it itself is now dead. A dead message for the living from the dead. It can be a powerful tool - with it, I will send the both of you forward to rebirth. Doing this will cause a push, and a push back – I can use that to bring myself back through the Shroud and live again. Sometimes only through death can we bring about new life. And sometimes we need to die so we can purge ourselves in fire and begin anew."

She clapped her hands together, and wings of fire rose behind her. Tears of lead poured from her eyes, burning their way down the flesh of her face, and down her body. Shepard shouted a wordless cry. For an instant, the Beacon, Saren, Nihlus, and Shepard were fire, blazing white and yellow and blue. Then all was ashes. Dust. Only the empty dead remained.


	4. Chapter 4 - Prologue ME1-0

Hell came silently to Mindoir.

Batarian slavers disabled the colony's early warning systems by slipping in on a captured shuttle. Once the long range scanners and alarms were disabled, the slavers filled the shuttle with high yield explosives and programmed the shuttle's auto-pilot to crash into the colony's defense grid. The impact and subsequent detonation shattered the defenses, and sent burning chunks of rubble flying into the settlement. This in turn set the surrounding buildings on fire.

Then, slave transports and assault craft stuck, taking out additional key points of infrastructure, but leaving the colony's communication grid undamaged. One craft landed at the colony's primary child center; Mercy learning and child care. Troops leapt out, gunning down adults, and corralling the children together in the dining hall.

Broadcasting a video demanding the colony's compliance, the batarians promised to kill a child for each attempted act of resistance. To prove they were serious, they shot a small girl, leaving her bleeding on the floor. The video continued in real time, watching the girl scrabble on the ground as she bled to death.

Mindoir was defenseless, disorganized, and demoralized.

That's when things started to go wrong.

A tremendous burst of electromagnetism pulsed over the planet, frying the batarian communications, and knocking their largest dropship out of the air as it was about to land. The drop was only a few hundred feet – any higher and the craft could have recovered before crashing. Any lower, and the damage might not have been so severe. The impact critically wounded or killed the bulk of the batarian land troops. In addition, their command structure was thrown into disarray as their leaders were all on the primary dropship, coordinating the ground assault at the last minute.

The brutality of the broadcasted video galvanized the human colonists. Grabbing what firearms and farming implements were available, the colonists began to ferociously resist the slavers. This sudden outburst of violence would have normally been easily handled by the heavily armed slavers. After the initial uprising was harshly dealt with, the remaining humans would have been easily pacified. At least, in theory. Unfortunately, the batarians were mostly clutching their helmets in pain as the dying squeal of their communications equipment left them momentarily disoriented. The coordinated assault and conquest of Mindoir unraveled into hundreds of small skirmishes backlit by the fires of the burning colony.

Screams of agony filled the air. Burning buildings gave the night a red, smoldering look. Suffering was everywhere. Hell had indeed come.

Amidst all of this, the appearance of a small girl was easily overlooked.

56 hours later, the remnants of the batarians limped out of the system. While the slave raid was technically a success - they had obtained two transports of slaves, they had lost over eighty percent of their force and were definitely fleeing the system.

Below them, the colony of Mindoir lay in ruins. Unchecked fires had spread across the entire settlement, and human and batarian corpses lay strewn about. A few human corpses lay in houses or curled up in corners, but the majority of the human dead were stretched out among the batarian corpses where they had tried to engage the slavers in hand to hand combat, or clustered around the Mercy learning and child care center where the batarians had broadcast their video. The Mercy center had been at the heart of the batarian defense, and the batarians viciously held the line until the colonists were able to crawl over their corpses and overwhelm the batarians, sometime near the 52nd hour of the battle. While they still held the learning center, the batarians were able to delude themselves that everything was under control, but once the center was lost, they quickly cut their losses and fled.

Out of the 258 children on the rolls, only three were found alive when the center was finally retaken.

The EMP that swept across the planet during the invasion was easily forgotten. After all, the attack was chaotic, the colony's sensors were down, and people were more interested in rebuilding or moving away than dwelling on small details of the traumatic past. Plus, all the batarians who could talk about the EMP were either dead or trying to forget the debacle as they fled.

Alliance aid came, taking traumatized survivors to counseling and relocation. All orphaned children were also relocated to the Alliance foster care system. Time passed, and life went on. But in many ways, this is the beginning.

-56 hours ago-

Janice was exhausted. She first thought she was in hell, seeing bizarre creatures chase down screaming humans, shooting some, and capturing the rest. Pulling herself out of the labyrinth of time via death should have left her on the other side of the Shroud, after all. However, she quickly began to feel that this was not the case here; this looked more like something out of a movie. Besides, she had been to hell before, and this place felt different.

Either way, she needed to learn more about what was going on.

Crouching low, she hid behind a bush as she watched several monstrous figures run past. She tensed, ready to sneak after them.

"Wait a moment."

She stilled.

Her big sister Mandy carefully looked over the foliage and took another glance around. Another group ran past their hiding place. After a few more moments, Mandy motioned Janice to go.

Holding a shaking knife in her fist, she crept out after the second group.

Mandy and Janice followed the trio of monsters, and watched as they started breaking down the door to what looked like an apartment.

"Jan, I need you to stay here with big sis Mercy. Follow her lead. I'm going to follow them in, and see what's going on."

Mandy knelt down and gave Janice a hug. Janice squeezed back hard. They knelt in silence for a few seconds.

"I am so proud of you; you are doing so well. Keep it together and stay safe." With that, Mandy ghosted through the wall into the house.

Janice scuttled closer to the entryway. Inside the door, she could hear shouting, and gunshots. A few moments later, the monsters returned, dragging a weeping woman covered in blood. They threw her to the ground and started to tie her hands behind her back.

Janice struck the one keeping watch first, Mercy's murmured instructions in her ears and Mercy's hands guiding her blade.

Hopping up, she drove the knife like a spike into the back of its head; up and in from behind. Dropping to the right, she grabbed the twitching corpse's arm as it crumpled, and carefully aimed its gun at the other figures bending over the woman. They were turning and looking in her direction as she pulled the trigger, sending a spray of some not-quite-bullets into them. Flaring barriers lit up for a moment before the rounds smashed into them, carving their faces into ribbons.

Dropping the limp arm, Janice turned and threw up into the bushes. Mercy was laughing at her in the back of her head.

After a few minutes, she crawled over to the woman who was still lying on the ground. She started checking the weeping woman for wounds.

Mandy walked out of the house.

"House is empty, one male corpse. Looks like they killed her husband for trying to resist."

Janice looked over to her big sis, and nodded once.

"Jan, help her up. We have to get out of here." Mandy looked into the distance, and then pointed. "There's another team over there, and they'll come in this direction in a few moments." Mandy thought for moment. "We need to cover up what happened here as well."

Janice started pulling at the woman, making quiet shushing sounds. The woman was still crying, and wasn't getting up. Janice pulled harder, and started to whimper. The woman finally looked up, and noticed the bloody girl pulling on her hand.

"Please get up." Janice whispered.

Something in the blood covered girl made the woman react, and she got to her feet. With Mandy guiding them, they got out of sight in time, even after leaving behind a surprise. Grenades make a great cover up device; no matter what happened before, afterwards everything looked like a grenade went off.

When the next batarian patrol came by to investigate the sound of the grenade, they weren't able to figure out much more of what happened. The next batch of grenades primed under the corpses and planted barely in the ground ensured that.

When dusk fell, big sis Mercy took Janice hunting.

Sneaking into Mercy children center was easier than it should have been. The echoes of the fighting and dying left a resonance that covered the entire settlement. All Janice had to do was lie down in a grave to begin her katabasis. The hard part was going to be coming back to Mindoir from the other side; the anabasis, but Janice was talented at that, and had her sisters and Avatar to guide her.

The Shroud on this realm was expectedly firm. Ivory pillars carved with science and etched with reasoning stood tall, stretching to infinity.

Janice stepped close, and drew her fingers across the chiseled words. She skimmed over them, looking for keys to pass through. There.

"I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."

Mandy stepped next to Janice and eyed the words under Janice's fingertips.

"John, right? Somewhere around verse 15? 14 maybe? These people are predominantly Christians of some sort, then."

That would make it easier.

Janice centered herself. Time to sneak into the land of the dead, bypass the guardians, and arise back inside the Mercy learning center. Inside her, her big sister Mercy was still laughing at the name of the building.

They waited by the barrier for a few moments, and then slipped in behind one of the newly dead passing through the Shroud into the lower umbra. No one noticed. So many dead were passing through that any guardians would have been hard pressed to spot them sneak in, but there were no guardians to this underworld. Marble pillars silently standing. Empty plains, and the shuffle of the dead.

Mercy glanced around. "Strange. No Cerberus. No Charon. You'd think that even after all this time, the old guardians would still be here, if not replaced by new ones of technocratic making."

Mandy frowned. "Maybe they didn't win the Ascension war then. Or they won so long ago they don't think such protection is still important, or they forgot why they needed it. But shouldn't ghosts be a major problem to them, then?"

"A mystery for another time. Let's find out where this 'Mercy' center connects to, and get out of here."

It was easy to find the location of the Mercy center; Janice just asked the ghosts of the children for directions, and soon arrived at the center. The cheerful colors of the walls were drab here, and the shadow of the center was tinged in blood. Abandoned children shoes littered the area by the front door. Janice carefully stepped over the shoes, and entered the shadow building.

She wandered back and forth until she found the right spot; a small desk, sized for a child, in an abandoned nursery classroom.

Time to start the anabasis.

Janice knelt down. She covered the small desk with a sheet, and drew forth a small horn carved from wood from behind her. The horn had a braided knot whittled along its side. She placed it under the desk, hidden by the sheet.

"How are you going to start?" Mandy asked mildly.

"Voluspo."

"Poetic Edda, the Seeress's Prophecy. Good choice." Mandy nodded, and waited patiently.

Janice took a deep breath, then another. After a moment, she spoke,

"I know of the horn of Heimdall, hidden  
Under the high-reaching holy tree;  
On it there pours from Valfather's pledge  
A mighty stream: would you know yet more?

"Mimir's sons dance,  
but the central tree takes fire,  
at the resounding Giallar-horn.  
Loud blows Heimdall, his horn is raised;  
Odin speaks with Mimir's head."

She took the horn from under the sheet, and raised it above her head. Palms open, hands together, she held the pose for several seconds, then turned and lowered the horn. Once, twice, thrice more, once in each direction she repeated the gesture.

"Your dead shall live; their bodies shall rise.  
You who dwell in the dust, awake and sing for joy!  
For your dew is a dew of light and the earth will give birth to the dead.

"Is not this the fast that I have chosen?  
To loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens,  
and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke?

She knelt, lowered the horn, and placed it in her lap. Carefully, she poured dust into the mouth of the horn.

"Now the trumpet summons us again  
not as a call to bear arms, though arms we need;  
not as a call to battle, though embattled we are,  
but a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle.

She placed the horn on top of the desk, and stood. All was still.

"Rejoice in hope!

She clapped her hands together, a thunder echoed through the silent building.

"Patience in tribulation!

She stomped her foot, a tremor shook the air. Vibration. Pressure.

"Struggle 'gainst the enemies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease, and war.

She poured the dust from the horn into her hands. It shimmered, glimmering a grey, subtle glow. She traced swirls and patterns onto her face and arms.

"Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.  
Each generation has been summoned to give testimony to its loyalty.  
The graves of the young who answered the call to service surround the globe.

She spun, throwing the last of the dust in a circle around her. It hung in the air, a sparkling cloud.

"And ken; the last enemy to be destroyed is death.

The entire room was quivering. Grey light covered Janice's face in a mask, obscuring and disfiguring everything but her blazing blue eyes.

"Tia mi aven Moridin isainde vadin;  
the grave is no bar to my call."

She drew the horn to her lips, and blew. Silence echoed. Janice vanished into reality, leaving behind a dusty, empty, reflection of a classroom in the penumbra.

Twenty minutes later, unable to handle their deaths at something they couldn't see, the batarians broke, and were overrun.

"Big sis Mercy, Mandy, what do we do now?"

It was almost dawn. Survivors clustered around fires in the dark, bone weary. Janice huddled by herself under a blanket. It was only slightly crisp outside, but Jan felt tired and cold. Blankets were also a bit cuddly, and she really needed a cuddle right now.

"Should we try to return to earth?"

"No." Mandy was firm.

Mercy and Janice waited for her to continue.

"Look, either the war is over, or it's not. If the war is over, then we don't need to head back to earth right away. If the war is still going on, then they could use our help. However, technology is everywhere. Aliens! Other realms! If we go back to earth, we will probably be found by the technocracy first - surveillance is their forte. We can learn and grow better out here, where no one knows us."

"What about the old man?" Mercy asked, eyes sharp.

Mandy stilled, then sighed.

"He would want us safe, more than anything else. We still do have reasons to hide; passing time didn't stop them from finding us before, and I see no reason why it would work now." She glanced wryly at Mercy.

Mercy grimaced.

"Sorry, Amanda. You know I'm sorry."

"We know, big sis." Janice crawled into Mercy's lap, and gave her a hug.

"So." Mandy stated, "Let us see what wonders this new milieu can offer us, let us gather our strength and focus, and let us stay hidden. For now."

Janice and Mercy nodded, and they turned to watch the dawn rise on a distant planet.

The next morning, a bored child was sitting in an alliance child welfare waiting room.

A kindly faced older woman entered the room, an electronic clipboard in her hands. "Jane Shepard?" She asked, looking down to confirm the name.

The child shrugged. As good a name as any, and it never hurt having more names. "Yeah, what do you want?"

"I'm with Alliance child services. My name is Elisabeth. I'm in charge of making sure you get taken care of. Please come with me."

Janice followed the lady out of the room, and into the future.

_Author's note: Good lord, this chapter did not come easy. Every time I thought I had it finished, more and more kept coming out._


	5. Chapter 5 - Lazarus station ME2-2

Shepard opened her green eyes and came back to life. Medical lab. Surgery tools and implements. Klaxons. Some kind of emergency, then. Perfect timing. She rolled over, fell off her slab, landing crouched on the floor. She closed her eyes and looked around, extending her senses. Nothing in her immediate vicinity. She stood, and opened her now gray eyes.

Then she turned her sight inwards, and screamed. Wires. Circuits. Metals and ceramics. A red glow from beneath her skin. Corruption. She could feel the Wyrm whispering to her.

Her scream turned to despair.

Not again. Not after so much. She reached for a scalpel on a nearby table. She would die again before she turned.

A hand dripping molten lead gripped her arm, holding her still.

"Shepard!" A woman's voice over the intercom. "Are you awake? Get up, you have to...Shepard? Shepard! What's wrong?"

Shepard realized she was still screaming. A keening cry. Horror and despair in her voice. She closed her mouth, and swallowed. She lifted her hands to her face. The voice over the intercom kept talking but Shepard didn't hear. She could see machines within her – underneath her skin. A pulsing red glow spread beneath her flesh, grinding metal and humming power as it chewed into her bones and remade her body.

Small arms clung to her. Burning wings encircled her. Reflexively she hugged her Avatar back. As they hugged, she felt herself catch fire. Pain blazed as fires spread across her and into the glowing scars covering her body. Heat. Agony. Cleansing. Suffering. Purifying. Her flesh sizzles and chars as the machines inside her start to slag, melt, and drip out her body and down her flesh in rivulets. Acidic smoke pours from her mouth and eyes.

Locked in their embrace, Shepard and her Avatar kneel. Wings of fire and molten lead cover them. Drops of liquid metal patter onto the floor.

Emergency fire suppressant systems turned on, showering them with water and fire-resistant foam. A cloud of steam. The hiss of cooling metal.

Jane Shepard stands. She is calm. Tracks of liquid iron are frozen on her cheeks like war paint. She wrenches her feet out of the hardening puddle of metal beneath her. A deep breath, then she moves to the door. Something is coming and Jane will be ready. Death hovers; a familiar presence. People have died nearby, and recently. Silently, she ghosts out of the medical bay, deeper into the station.

When the HIT marks burst into the room, Jane is gone. All that is left is a circular depression in the floor where a bonfire made of two women blazed. The shape of their knees and feet are molded into the ground. Only one set of footprints can be seen leaving the pyre; bare feet impressed into the partially melted floor. The prints gradually disappear, leaving no trail for the searching machines to follow.

The Shepard of death has arisen once more.

* * *

When Jacob sees Commander Shepard alive for the first time, he is pinned down between his own hacked security mechs, and the assault mechs. He was fine until just a few minutes ago; he had good cover against the hacked security mechs, and was methodically picking them off. That's when the doors to his right burst open and half a dozen heavy assault mechs walked in. His wonderful cover was now a cul-de-sac and he was wedged into the small scrap of space that barely kept him out of the line of fire. Unfortunately, his precious cover was slowly disintegrating under the withering fire coming from both directions. He has already resigned himself to being overrun, but is still calm. Jacob is good at that. Every moment he can keep them occupied is more time for Miranda to escape, and he intends to sell his life dearly.

Shepard appears like a lightning bolt. Suddenly, one of the assault mech's head explodes in sparks. Most of it is hacked off by some sort of barely sharp blade, most likely cobbled out of a metal table leg. Holding the blade in one hand, Shepard is shooting the rest of the mechs from behind at point blank range with a pistol. Miranda told him Shepard was alive but he remembered Miranda say they weren't able to wake Shepard from her coma.

He glances up at the ceiling, and sees the ventilation shaft she dropped down from.

Pretty nimble for someone who hasn't been mobile for the last two years.

Between the two of them, they make short work of the mechs; the tables have turned, and now he is once again in an optimal position to provide enfilading fire if their foes turn to engage the new threat devastating their flank. Devastating is the correct word; Jacob knew Shepard made a name for herself in the Alliance N7 ranks for her precision with guns, but she is unstoppable in close quarter combat. A few shots, and three thrusting chops are enough to wipe out that flank, and now they are ones pincering the last of the security mechs.

After they finish dealing with the mechs, he steps out from cover to greet her, but before he can speak he takes a good look at her.

Her face radiates fury. Tracks of metal run down her face like tears from her eyes. The smell of fire and baking ceramic seems to be coming off her in waves. He knows she isn't a biotic, but he imagines he can almost see a hazy field surround her. He has never seen someone look so angry. She is magnificent.

She drives her blade down into each of the heads of the mechs before she turns to him.

"Commander Shepard. I thought you were still on ice." Despite all the internal turmoil Jacob experiences, his voice is always calm. Cool and smooth. He's quite proud of that, actually.

She looks at him, but he has the strange feeling that she is looking through him instead of at him. She blinks, and then her gaze sharpens on his face. Her voice is cold, quick.

"Are there any more survivors? We have to get out of here before they decide to destroy the station instead of letting us get away. These people are ruthless."

Shepard knew the attackers? How depressing. In a coma for the last 2 years, and she's already figured out more in a few minutes than Jacob was able to discover. Some chief of security he was. Ah well. Jacob shrugged. Questions for later.

"Miranda should still be alive; she's too smart to get caught easily but those assault mechs are no joke. However we have to get you to the shuttles; my top priority is to see you make it out alive."

"Miranda? I think I remember hearing her voice on the intercom."

"She's the one in charge of this station, and project Lazarus."

Shepard stilled.

"Lazarus? She's the one that brought me back from the dead?" She asked quietly.

Jacob nodded then quirked an eyebrow. How did she know Project Lazarus was about her? How did she know she was dead instead of just incapacitated? Did someone tell her, or was it merely something else she figured out herself while crawling through ventilation shafts, discovering the attacker's identities, and making jury-rigged bladed weapons? Jacob eyed the blade she held. That thing didn't look too sharp, but up close he could see how purposefully deadly it looked. Piercing? Slicing? No, it was a hacking implement. That was the right word.

Shepard bared her teeth. "I definitely want words with her."

Suddenly, Shepard stood. "Let's go; more mechs are on the way and we need to move now."

As they headed out, Jacob figured things were looking up. All he had to do was make sure Shepard got out alive. How hard could that be? She was a Spectre, and he knew exactly where to go. No problem. But of course they couldn't just flee to the escape shuttles; that would be too easy. Not three minutes later they were sidetracked to rescue Wilson; the last person alive on the station besides them and Miranda.

"Shepard, the service tunnels are this way. It's our only shot at getting to Wilson in time." Jacob pointed right at a t-intersection.

"The service tunnels are crawling with mechs. This way's faster." Shepard pointed left. The entire hallway to the left was on fire; chemical lines had ruptured, and Jacob could feel the heat from where he was standing. How did she know the service tunnels were full of mechs?

"Shepard, we have to go around, the entire corridor is on fire! You can't make it through to the shutdown values in time. You don't even know where they are! You'll burn to death."

She looked at him calmly. Without taking her eyes off him, she lifted her pistol and shot the broken fire suppressant system above her. Water and fire retardant foam sprayed down on her from the shattered mechanism for a moment, then she turned and walked into the inferno. Jacob stared at the flames. If he chased after her, would it do anything? Probably not. Running in blind, he'd stumble and trip over her, stop her from pulling the emergency shut-off switches, and they'd both burn to death rolling on the ground. It's not like he had experience walking blind through fire hitting small buttons when he wasn't sure of their exact locations.

After a few minutes, the flames died down, and Shepard appeared at the end of the hallway. Smoke was steaming off her, and she was calmly putting out the small fires that had sprung up over her armor.

Obviously Shepard had that kind of experience.

"Hurry up, Jacob."

No wonder the boss wanted her brought back.

* * *

When they got to Wilson, Shepard immediately knew he was her foe. Everything about him screamed his guilt. The turn of his body, the play of his words. He was against her, and this made her smile. She would make sure he stayed safe and secure… until she had a chance to interrogate him.

Jacob did not like the look on Shepard's face, not at all. Her mouth was entirely too full of teeth. Jacob made a snap decision. He did not want to see her smile like that in his direction, and she was gripping her hacking bludgeon far too tightly for his liking.

"Commander, if I tell you who we're working for, will you trust me?"

Shepard's face smoothed into a blank mask. She silently stared at Jacob. Her whole body stilled. "Tell me."

Shepard and Jacob stood looking at each other. Wilson sputtered and mouthed words, but both of them ignored him. After a few moments, Jacob continued. "The Lazarus project… this station… is run by Cerberus."

"Wait. What?" Shepard's face twisted in confusion and disbelief. "_You_ guys are Cerberus?" She pointed at the broken mechs. "I thought they were Cerberus; the attackers. I figured you got through by disguising yourself in Cerberus uniforms. So… you guys are really Cerberus? Who are they then?" She poked her gun at the mech again, prodding the Cerberus logo on the mech.

"We don't know. I thought you knew."

"I thought they were you guys! Stop a moment. Let me get this straight." Shepard was still incredulous. She took a breath. "This is a Cerberus facility."

Jacob nods.

"Cerberus found my body, and spent the last two years plus piles of money trying to bring me back to life."

Jacob nods.

"You work for Cerberus. All of you."

Jacob nods again.

"Meanwhile, someone _else_ wants me dead enough to find out you have me, find the location of this hidden terrorist base, infiltrate it, and launch their own attack while hacking your own security forces against you? While keeping you from seeing it coming?"

Jacob shrugged.

Shepard twisted her shoulders back and forth. "Ok then. Let's grab Miranda, and finally get out of here." Shepard's face was full of teeth again. "I most definitely want words with her."

* * *

It was easy for Shepard to be angry at Miranda. After all, first impressions make a large impact on how we judge people, and the first thing Miranda did on seeing Shepard was shoot treacherous Wilson in the throat. Under other circumstances, she could admire Miranda's decisiveness, but not in this case. Miranda had just made Shepard very unhappy. After all, she wanted to shoot Wilson herself, but that was incidental; she needed to figure out who was trying to find her, and Wilson knew something. Was it the technocracy? Or had more personal enemies finally found her? Wilson had information, and Miranda was making it harder for Shepard to get that information.

Miranda was talking at Shepard, but Shepard ignored her, and knelt by Wilson's corpse. She had to do this quickly, before his spirit left his physical soma completely. She drew her knife, and raised it into the air. She gripped Wilson's neck with her other hand, firmly holding it in place.

"What… what are you doing, Shepard?" Miranda

Shepard drove the knife down, driving between the vertebrae and severing Wilson's spine. She began to saw the knife back and forth, slicing through Wilson's neck.

"Shepard!" Miranda's voice was strained.

Shepard turned her head, and coldly looked at Miranda. She kept sawing at Wilson's neck.

"Miranda. We all knew Wilson was a traitor. You didn't have to shoot him. Now I need to take his head with us."

"Why do you need his head?"

"Well, it's not like I want to drag his whole body along with us. Head'll do just fine."

Shepard finished separating the head from the body, then used her knife to quickly cut Wilson's shirt off. Grabbing the severed head by the back of the neck, she placed into the fabric, folded the cloth over, and tied the bundle off. Grabbing the knot, she stood.

"Done. Let's get out of here."

Shepard brushed past Miranda, and walked to their escape shuttle.

Miranda studied Shepard as she walked past Miranda to the shuttle. As first impressions go, Miranda didn't like Shepard either.

Jacob and Miranda followed Shepard into the shuttle, and they quickly fled.

The HIT marks following their trail found Wilson's decapitated corpse just before the self destruction charges detonated the station.

* * *

After a quick stopover at Minuteman station, they were now en route to meet the Illusive Man face to face on Cronos station.

Miranda frowned at her new orders. The whole situation was backwards. Why would the Illusive Man spend so much money creating a quantum-entanglement communicator, and just not use it? Why would he insist on meeting Shepard in person?

This was just the last in a list of things that did not make sense. Why ensure Shepard was brought back unchanged, as much as possible? It just made it harder, trying to rebuild her broken body than replacing parts, but orders were orders, and Miranda was not one to balk at difficulty. The most ridiculous orders she had to deal with was for the new SR-2 ship; what reason could he have for insisting they use the original Normandy's broken keel? For the costs to locate it amidst the rest of the wreckage on Alchera, transport it out of atmosphere, and fix its damages, she could have manufactured four brand new plates. At least the crew was all Cerberus. Why did they even need Shepard? She was just one person. What could one person do?

But now, sitting across the shuttle from Shepard, she could begin to see why Shepard was important to the Illusive Man. Miranda was special, important. But she was made that way. Shepard seemed to draw greatness to herself. Nothing about Shepard seemed to explain this but somehow the Illusive Man had seen it, and knew it would be important to their goals.

Nothing about Shepard was making sense; Miranda had studied everything there was on Shepard, had become an expert on her. But still, Shepard had surprised her several times since she woke, and even now she was defying expectations. Miranda didn't even know how Shepard woke from her coma. Did something go wrong, or was her data at fault? Miranda let her original plans go; more testing must be done.

Once they were settled into the shuttle, and en route, Miranda turned to face Jacob and Shepard. Shepard was slumped over; gazing at the severed head she had bundled and taken with them. The bundle was in her lap, and was slightly leaking.

"Shepard, before you meet with the Illusive Man, we need to ask you a few questions to evaluate your condition."

Jacob looked at Miranda. "Come on Miranda, more tests? Shepard was impeccable back there. Tactics, threat evaluations, and battlefield adaptation. She's still got it all. I can vouch for that personally."

"It's been two years. We have to make sure her personality and memories are intact."

Shepard raised her head, and looked at Miranda. She didn't say anything. Her eyes glittered in the dim lights. After a few moments, she bent her head, and gazed down once again at the bloody bundle she held in her lap.

Silence.

After a few minutes, the silence stretched on. Shepard kept her gaze fixed on the covered head, mouth moving slightly, but speaking no words. Miranda and Jacob shared a concerned glance.

"Shepard?" Jacob asked gently.

Silence.

Miranda and Jacob settled into an uneasy quiet.

Twenty minutes later, Shepard sighed and raised her head. She pushed the bundle onto the seat beside her.

"Worthless."

Jacob and Miranda started, and shared another concerned glance.

Jacob licked his lips. "What are you talking about, Shepard?"

Shepard shrugged. "Wilson was a tool." She turned to look out the window.

Silence.

Miranda awkwardly cleared her throat. "Shepard, we want you to answer some questions."

Shepard kept looking out at the stars. "Miranda. You have questions for me, and I have questions I want to ask you. Looks like we're both going to be disappointed. I'll meet your boss. Based on how that goes, either we'll try to kill each other, or we walk away. Right now, not only does it not make sense to give information to my potential enemies, but I am also not in any mood to answer you. Coming back from the dead is tiring."

"Will you at least clean up beforehand? Those smears on your face don't look so good. Do you need any medical attention?"

"No."

The rest of the ride to Cronos station was full of silence.

When they finally arrived at Cronos station and were exiting the shuttle, Shepard once again grasped the bundled head in her hand as she rose.

"Why are you still carrying around that head? Leave it in the shuttle and we will take care of it."

Shepard gave a dry chuckle. "As we enter the mouth of Cronus, I figured I should bring my own omphalos."

Jacob looked at Miranda. She seemed to get the reference. Jacob would ask her later; time to meet the Illusive Man.

Omake:  
"It's not the dying that's hard. It's coming back to life that's such a pain."  
Shepard groaned as she slowly wedged herself out of the body locker in the morgue.  
"At least it's not a coffin this time."  
More twisting and grumbling.  
"Dammit, I'm stuck."


End file.
